


That Cold

by thesaddestboner



Series: Emo Jeter Fic [2]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Manpain, New York Yankees, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-18
Updated: 2006-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:02:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Derek goes back to New York.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pun/gifts).



> Mini-sequel to [High Summer](http://archiveofourown.org/works/564735). I always intended on writing a proper sequel. Oh wells.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

Derek goes back to New York the next day, packs all his bags in the middle of the night and leaves Alex a hastily-scribbled note on a page of old hotel stationery he'd kept in his pants pocket for a moment just like this. 

Derek goes back to New York, hoping that the rushing in his head will start to die down the farther he is from the ocean. Hoping that the promise of spring will drive the uncertainty and weakness out of his mind and body.

He dreads Spring Training, when Alex will show up at camp and they'll have to look each other in the eyes and act like nothing's changed, like everything is the same as it was before. 

But Derek knows, and a part of him is certain Alex does as well, that _everything_ has changed. The first day of camp, Derek notes that Alex's throws from third, when they're throwing the ball around the horn, just casual, nothing to be all fired up about, sting his palm through his leather mit. When he looks at him, Alex won't meet his gaze, and when Derek trots up behind him after infield practices are over, Alex picks up his speed and joins Sheff a few paces ahead. 

But then again, this could all be a part of Derek's overworked imagination, God knows he's been thinking about their _reunion_ since he skipped out on Alex and Cynthia that winter. 

Derek spots Alex in his corner of the clubhouse, digging through a nylon CD case. 

"Hey." Derek tilts his head at Alex.

Alex doesn't look up from his CDs. "Yo. 'Sup?"

Derek commandeers Bubba Crosby's stool and pulls it up next to Alex, resting a hand on the other man's shoulder. Alex shrinks away from him, or it could just be Derek's imagination. "Nothing much," says Derek. "How about you? How is Cynthia? And the baby?"

"They're doing fine, Derek." Alex sighs and zips his CD case shut. He rubs his thumb and index finger over the bridge of his nose and sighs, and Derek can see the tension rippling through him like the waves did the day he tried to drown himself. "I really don't think . . . Don't think I should be talking to you right now." Alex fans his fingers over his eyes.

"Why not? We're teammates. We've _gotta_ talk," Derek mutters.

"Well, I didn't mean like not saying a single word to you for the entire season, because, yeah, that's pretty much impossible. I mean. Like this. When we're alone." Alex drops his hand into his lap and picks at a loose thread at his bent knee, usually pristine uniform pants already scrubbed green with grass stains.

"Fuck, Alex." Derek lets himself get mad this time, doesn't try to hold onto it like he did before. Is still pretty sure it's Alex's fault he almost died.

"I don't want to be alone with you." Alex lowers his voice to a hiss of air, voice like car exhaust. He drums his thumb against Derek's cheek, and Derek is too surprised at the sudden contact to pull away. "Because if I'm alone with you . . . God only knows what I would do to you with no one around to stop me."

Alex gets up and toes his wooden stool into his cubby, his eyes fixed to the ground, and Derek brings his fingertips to his cheek where Alex touched him, his cheek throbbing under his touch. He tucks his glove under his arm and pulls his cap down over his eyes so that Derek can't see them anymore.

Derek watches him leave, shouldering his way past some unknowns in blue Spring Training-issue jerseys, eyes shimmering bright like the sun, almost glowing, and Derek feels cold all over.

He realizes then that he never stopped feeling that cold.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
